


Cherry Wood

by badgirlcarly



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, Established Relationship, Fantasizing, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Paddling, Punishment, Spanking, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgirlcarly/pseuds/badgirlcarly
Summary: Crow Horse notices Ray hasn't been spanked in a while, and presses him to admitting a past offense.





	Cherry Wood

Ray was 20, still baby-faced, and coming into the locker room in his baseball uniform. He’d played second base up through college, and he and his teammates left practice to shower and change.

Ray had stripped down to his jockstrap, the white elastic framing his toned, brown ass, the other boys already in the shower. Ray’s coach found him alone at his locker, shoving his jeans into his duffle.

“Levoi,” he said. He was a beefy man, tall and slightly red-faced. He’d been a catcher back in his day, which had been at least 20 years ago. “I need to have a word.”

Ray set the duffle down in the bottom of his locker, devoted all his attention to his coach.

“Yes, sir?”

“You missed practice last week. Want to tell me why?”

Ray’s cheeks colored. He poked his tongue against his cheek. “I—” he said, but Coach could tell he was on the verge of a lie, and the older man said sternly, “Don’t feed me no lies, son. You out fucking that pretty girlfriend of yours?”

Ray’s chest pinched; it was hard to breath. He lowered his eyes, and just nodded.

“Look at me, Levoi.” Ray raised his eyes. If anything, Coach’s face was redder than usual. “I know I don’t have to lecture you on how not participating lets the team down.”

“No, sir,” he said quietly.

“And I know I don’t have to tell you how getting kicked off this team would affect your scholarship.”

“No, sir.”

“Still,” Coach said, laying a hand on Ray’s shoulder, “I’m not going to let this go unpunished. You’re getting a spanking.”

Ray’s cheeks were beet red. He bit his lip. “Yes, sir.”

“Turn around.”

Ray put his back to his coach, his breathing shallow. Coach put his hand on Ray’s back, bent him over so his hands were on his knees and his knees were slightly bent. 

“This is going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me,” Coach said.

“Yes, sir.”

Coach’s rough hand cupped Ray’s naked backside for a moment before drawing up and smacking down hard. Ray groaned as a red, palm-shaped mark bloomed on his ass. He wondered briefly if the guys in the shower could hear this, but then Coach started wailing down hard, angry slaps onto his upraised bottom, and that pushed every thought except pain from Ray’s head.

Coach spanked hard, and Ray had no doubt that he’d perfected his art during many years of disciplining young athletes. Ray blushed furiously; his legs shook, and Ray’s groans turned into whimpers as the pain began to permeate into his muscles. Coach had been a player, too, Ray remembered; the strength he put behind the wallops was incredible, each smack jarring Ray forward, making it difficult and unpleasant to maintain position. 

A few of Ray’s teammates came out of the showers, towels slung around their waists, water dripping down their muscular chests. They were in Ray’s eyesight, and he lowered his eyes as he saw the grins spreading across their faces. They murmured quietly amongst themselves, and Ray wondered what they were saying about him, how he’d be teased tomorrow, how they’d humiliate him later in the shower as he gingerly soaped his burning backside. He imagined them pressing him to the slick tile wall face first, then lining up to slap his sore ass. He’d seen a group of them torture a freshman like that after he’d gotten on Coach’s bad side, but he’d never participated himself. Of course, he’d never had his butt bruised by Coach, either. First time for everything.

Coach continued Ray’s spanking, the flesh on flesh contact echoing like gunshots in the tile amphitheater of the locker room. It was hurting more and more; it was becoming more and more difficult to maintain his composure. Coach was breathing heavy, tiring from how hard he was blistering Ray’s ass. His pace slowed a little, but the hits kept coming in just as hard. Tears pricked at the corners of Ray’s eyes, and he began to yelp as each new blow blazed across his sore flesh. More boys came out of the shower; now the whole team was watching him get punished. With this realization, tears began to slide down Ray’s burning cheeks; his lips trembled, and he prayed for it all to end. 

Finally, it did. Coach stopped spanking him and pulled him by the shoulder so he was standing up straight. Ray’s hands grasped his burning backside; the flesh was hot to the touch and Ray could feel a dull bruisey pain forming at his seat. His teammates laughed at him until a glare from Coach silenced them.

Coach reached his arm way back, and landed one last terrible smack to Ray’s backside.

“Hit the showers,” he said. 

Miserable, Ray stripped off his jockstrap and went into the showers. The other boys followed him, their towels dropping to the floor as they entered. Ray kept his eyes on the tile as he washed himself, hoping if he concentrated enough on other things, this horrible reality would bleed away. Jones, a big senior who played outfield, came up behind him, his hand on Ray’s neck and back, pushing him face first into the tile wall. Ray lost his breath; he knew what was coming. Jones’ large hand landed, palm flat, against Ray’s well-spanked ass. Ray’s howl echoed throughout the tile vault of the shower as Jones held him firmly in place for the rest of the team to punish him.

***

Crow Horse woke from his dream to find an award winning erection tenting the sheets. He knew that in real life, Ray hadn’t been spanked until he’d met Crow Horse, but it was nice to imagine. Plus, he loved seeing Ray in that baseball uniform. Crow Horse palmed his cock, gave it a rub. Ray emerged from the bathroom, but Crow Horse didn’t let go of his cock; he gave it another nice tug as Ray watched. 

Ray laughed. “You’re sure in a good mood this morning.”

“Had a real nice dream,” Crow Horse said. He sat up, back against his pillows. “Come here and finish it for me.”

Ray joined him on the bed. Crow Horse ran his fingers through Ray’s hair, caressed Ray’s cheek with his knuckles. He pulled Ray forward; Ray submitted, thinking he was going to be kissed, but then Crow Horse forced his head down to his crotch. 

“Subtle,” Ray said.

“Hush, now,” Crow Horse said. “Best get busy.”

Ray pulled the covers off Crow Horse, and bent over the fly of his boxers. Crow Horse kept them on; he knew Ray didn’t like cum in his mouth. Crow Horse stretched back on the pillows, spine liquid, skin tingling, as Ray went to work. Crow Horse stepped back into his dream, let the image of the team of young men spanking Ray to tears in the shower wash over him. He came quickly, bucking against Ray’s tongue, his fingers gripping Ray’s hair hard.

Ray’s cheeks were red when he came up to give Crow Horse a kiss. Crow Horse released his grip on Ray’s hair, looked at him fondly. Ray’s lips were red and swollen, which Crow Horse found hot as hell. He wished he hadn’t come so soon; he was suddenly overtaken by an intense desire to push Ray to his belly and fill him to the hilt. 

Ray’s tongue slid over his ample mouth, and Crow Horse felt himself getting hard again. Unfortunately, Ray didn’t notice; he got up off the bed, straightened his clothes.

“I’m going to get breakfast started,” he said, and left Crow Horse alone to his own devices.

***

A bit later, Walter watched Ray move around the kitchen, putting away the breakfast dishes.

“You know,” Crow Horse said, “you ain’t been spanked in a while.”

“I haven’t needed it.”

“You sure about that?”

Ray frowned at him. “Yeah.”

“Nothing you’re keeping to yourself?”

Ray began shaking his head, but then something caught at the periphery of his mind. He stopped, his mouth twisting. 

Crow Horse knew that expression. He gave Ray a stern look. “What is it?”

Ray’s tongue traveled slowly over his lips. “I may have—shit, Crow Horse.”

Crow Horse got up from the table. He approached Ray, boxed him in against the counter.

“What is it, Raymond?”

Ray looked pained. “I honestly forgot about it; I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”

“_What_, Raymond?”

Ray sighed. His shoulders slumped. “Remember when you fussed at me for keeping all those old boxes in the spare room, and you had me move them to the garage?”

That had been about a week ago. Crow Horse nodded.

Ray’s mouth twisted again. “I sort of...I dropped one of the boxes already in there.”

“One of my boxes?”

“Yeah. And it—something in it broke. An old pitcher and bowl. I tried to glue them back together, but there were too many pieces.”

“So what’d you do with them?”

Ray bit his lip. “I—I just put them back in the box, and put the box back on the shelf.”

Crow Horse gritted his teeth. “That’s very irresponsible of you, Ray.”

Ray hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry.” He paused, assessed Crow Horse’s expression. “I—I’ll take any punishment you see fit,” he added morosely.

Crow Horse nodded. “That’s coming. First, we’re gonna go into the garage to see the damage.”

Ray followed him into the garage. He helped Crow Horse move his boxes aside to reach the damaged one. It was easy to identify: the side of the box was crushed in and there was a oil staining the cardboard from when it had hit the cement floor.

“You just hid this back here like this?” Crow Horse demanded.

Ray nodded, unable to speak to defend himself. Crow Horse hoisted down the box. He carried it to his workbench, where he began to paw through it.

“Shit, Ray, you made a mess of this,” he said. He pricked his finger on a shard of porcelain and cursed, bringing the wound to his mouth, the coppery drop of blood dissolving on his tongue. 

“Shit,” he said again. He poked around the box’s contents more carefully, finally looking up at Ray’s hangdog expression.

“Everything in here’s ruined,” he said. “Might as well throw everything away.”

“I’m sorry,” Ray said softly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know that, Ray. I also know that you did do it, and—worse—you didn’t fess up to it immediately.”

Crow Horse noticed that Ray’s hands were behind his back, covering his bottom. He let it go without mention; Ray probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“I accept my punishment,” Ray said weakly. 

Crow Horse nodded. “Good. Come here.”

Ray came.

“Take down your britches,” Crow Horse said, and watched as Ray undid his pants, and then pulled down his jeans and his boxers. Crow Horse guided him right up to the edge of the workbench, and then bent him over it. Ray rested his weight on his elbows, his head low and his backside high.

Crow Horse opened up his tool chest a minute. Out of the bottom cabinet, he pulled out a wooden object, about a foot in length, sanded smooth.

Ray’s eyes widened. “What is that?”

Crow Horse tapped the paddle against his palm. “It’s a paddle, Ray. I made it out here.”

Ray was beginning to panic. “Out of what?”

“Nice piece of cherry. Cut it out with my jigsaw, sanded it up and gave it a good coat of lacquer.”

“Why?”

“For your backside, of course,” Crow Horse said. He thumped the paddle against his palm; Ray looked like he was going to be sick. “Bend over.”

Ray whimpered, but he obeyed. Crow Horse positioned himself behind him, gave the paddle a practice swing without connecting with Ray’s ass.

“How many am I getting?” Ray asked miserably.

“How many do you deserve?”

Ray mulled over it a minute. “Three?” he asked hopefully.

Crow Horse gave Ray’s backside a good smack with his bare hand. “That won’t even get you pink.”

“I—eight?”

Crow Horse smacked him again.

Ray hung his head. The next word came out in a whisper. “Twenty.”

Crow Horse nodded. “Good boy. I’m proud of you for owning up.”

Ray’s shoulders sagged; Crow Horse knew how hard it had been for him to utter the word “twenty”. Crow Horse rubbed his shoulders a bit. “There, there,” he said.

“I—I’m ready,” Ray said, setting his jaw. He steadied his stance, legs spread, pushing his pretty backside up.

Crow Horse nodded. He stepped back, angled his body for optimal swing. He pulled back the paddle, landed a hard swat to Ray’s backside.

Ray yelped. He jumped up, his hands clutching desperately at his burning backside. Crow Horse gave him a minute, then said sternly, “Get back in position. That one doesn’t count; you misbehave again, we’ll start right over—as many times as we need to.”

Ray got back in position mighty quick. His legs were shaking now, but he presented himself to the paddle. Crow Horse figured maybe he shouldn’t have whacked Ray so hard on the first one, but he’d wanted to get his attention. He’d done that.

Crow Horse pulled his arm back. He brought the paddle down on Ray’s ass, but only with a firm tap.

“One,” Crow Horse said.

“Am I supposed to count?” Ray asked. His voice was a bit thin.

“No, honey, I’ll keep track.”

Crow Horse gave Ray’s backsides a few more firm taps. Ray was breathing heavy, but he was not squirming or crying out, so Crow Horse figured he’d better give a little more to him. The next stroke was harder, though nowhere near as hard as the first one had been. Crow Horse layered on a few more, pinkening up Ray’s backside. Each swat got a little harder; at ten, Ray had started to wince; at twelve, a groan tore out of his throat. Fifteen, and he was squirming, his backside a nice cherry color. 

“Stay still,” Crow Horse said. “Last warning.”

Ray’s head drooped. “Yes, sir.”

“Five more,” Crow Horse said. He pulled his arm back, and landed a cracker against Ray’s ass. Ray shouted, but he stayed in position.

“Four,” Crow Horse said. He smacked another good one across Ray’s sit spot, and Ray gulped down air with a sob.

“Three.” The paddle hit firmly against Ray’s right cheek, covering every inch of it.

“Two.” Now the left cheek. Ray was crying, his legs shaking hard. His back had started to drop a bit; Crow Horse tapped the sensitive skin of Ray’s upper thighs with the paddle, short, stingy smacks, and told him to raise that butt up. He did.

“Last one, honey,” Crow Horse said, “then it’s all over.”

This one was going to hurt, though. With all the force he could, Crow Horse slammed the paddle home. Ray howled, his head bent low, almost to his chest, tears dripping off his nose.

Crow Horse put down the paddle on the bench next to Ray, bending over him slightly, gently laying his weight across Ray’s back. Ray murmured as Crow Horse put some weight on his abused bottom, but he was still. Crow Horse rubbed Ray’s back, pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Good boy,” he said. “You took your punishment like a man.”

“Crying like a little boy?” Ray asked.

“Exactly.”

Ray sniffled. He leaned back against Crow Horse, despite the pain.

“I know you like spanking me,” he said softly.

“I do. But that don’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

“No, I know.” 

Crow Horse took a step back, let Ray straighten up and rub his backside. Ray flinched, gasped. 

“What about the rest?” he asked. Crow Horse always gave him a hand spanking after any other punishment.

Crow Horse nodded. Ray stepped back while Crow Horse pulled the padded bench out from under the workbench. Crow Horse sat, and Ray came over his lap. Ray’s backside was a healthy pink, darkening more and more the further toward the thighs it got. Crow Horse laid a hand on top of Ray’s ass; it was hot to the touch. Crow Horse raised his hand, brought it down very softly, a pat, not a slap. He patted Ray’s butt a few more times, then told him to get up.

Ray stood. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve taken enough,” Crow Horse said. “You’ve learned your lesson.”

Ray nodded. “Thank you.”

He bent, brought up his pants and shorts. The tight denim scraped painfully over his swollen ass, and his lips trembled, but he didn’t cry.

Crow Horse rose, pulled Ray to him. He kissed Ray’s forehead.

“You’re my good boy,” he murmured, lips tickling Ray’s ear.

“I try to be.”

Crow Horse kissed him, full on the mouth this time. “That’s all you can do.” He looked up at Ray’s boxes scattered around the garage. A thought struck him. “You still got your college baseball uniform around somewhere?”

“Probably.”

Crow Horse set his hand at the small of Ray’s back, and took him to look for it.  



End file.
